Movements of Fire and Shadow
by Soledad
Summary: Arthur learns the ugly truth. How is he going to deal with it? Slightly AU version of episodes 1.13 and 2.1. Merthur, if you blink, otherwise more of a bromance. Comes after Forbidden Fruit. Repost.
1. Chapter 1

**Movements of Fire and Shadow**

**by Soledad**

**Disclaimer:** Arthur, Merlin and the other characters belong to the BBC. I'm just borrowing them to have some fun.

**Rating:** General, suitable for all

**Genre:** Mystery, perhaps a pinch of angst.

**Series/sequel:** none. Tag to a slightly AU Ep. 1.13.

**Summary:** After his near-death experience in "La Morte d'Arthur", Arthur begins to remember. This, however, is not without consequences either for him or for Merlin – or for their unique bond.

**Author's note: **At the time of writing this story, I haven't seen anything beyond Ep. 1.13 yet. Spoilers I found on the Internet hint at a different relationship between the two main characters, but frankly, I don't care. Hereby, I label this story an AU and intend to enjoy my creative freedom. The few lines quoted from the episode are in italics. They belong to Julian Jones, who wrote this particular episode. No copyright infringment intended and no pofit made.

Also, I tried to bind the episode's events a little tighter to the original legend (or the version of it that I happen to know). Hence the slightly AU elements. The basics remain the same, though, as I was mostly interested in the things that went on in Arthur's head.

Beta read by the Wild Iris, thanks. :)

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><p><strong>Part 01<strong>

Whenever Arthur Pendragon closes his eyes since that fateful encounter with the Questing Beast, all he ever dreams of are fire and darkness.

He's never known before that so many kinds of darkness could exist. Or so many kinds of fire, for that matter.

The darkness of the forest at night, filled with animal noises and the calls of night birds. Twigs snapping under the feet of some or other clumsy knight as they follow him in full armour, holding their swords or crossbows. 'Tis quite foolish to go hunting with swords (not to mention wearing their long, billowing red cloaks, which would seem even sillier) but they are there to protect their Prince, first and foremost.

Arthur is the only one without a cloak. He holds a short, sturdy hunting spear in his hand, in case they run into an agitated wild boar. Merlin, pale like a ghost and as thin as a twig, carries the crossbow for him. Merlin whole-heartedly hates the hunt, but he cannot avoid it when Arthur orders him to attend. And Arthur never goes out into the wilderness without Merlin these days – as if his manservant were his good luck charm, no matter what happens, to keep him safe.

The Moon stands high above their heads, casting a cold, white light just before their feet when they first hear that great noise right ahead of them. It's a loud barking, like thirty couple hounds questing – which freezes their blood, as they have no hounds with them this time.

At first they fear the hunters of a neighbouring realm have forayed into Camelot's forests. Based on the noise, they count on a large hunting party, at least thrice as many as their own numbers – that would mean a nasty confrontation. Yet when the Beast appears, they all wish it _were_ a rival party… for the creature is truly fearsome to look at.

It's something that should not exist, not even in one's nightmares. Its giant, scaled body is spotted like that of a leopard; it has the head and the long, sinuous neck of a serpent, the haunches of a lion and the feet of a hart. One would think it would be clumsy and awkward, due to its mismatched body parts, yet it's not. It's as fast as lightning and twice as deadly, as poor Sir Bedivere's extremely sudden demise shows. A forked tongue slips out of its maw hungrily, and its yellow eyes glint with a cold, otherworldly fire.

All thoughts of the hunt are instantly forgotten. Prince and knights run for their lives. Yet for some reason the monster seems to have fixed on Merlin, of all people, who falls over while running from it and is nearly bitten. Arthur has to haul the boy to his feet and drag him away from that deadly peril.

Which still doesn't explain why he keeps seeing Merlin in his dreams afterwards; and why in those dreams Merlin's eyes are glowing like molten gold.

Almost like those of the beast. Just with a warmer, more mellow light.

* * *

><p>His memories of tracking the Beast with only Merlin at his side are understandably blurred. All he knows is that they were suddenly cornered by the creature at a cave, and it went straight after Merlin again. Arthur remembers stepping in to save the terrified boy – it is his duty to protect the weak, after all, and even if it weren't, he could never leave behind someone so fragile, so… <em>precious<em> to the questionable mercy of a mythical monster.

He tries _not_ to think about why he should consider Merlin precious. That's a word he would never use where his manservant is concerned – not within _anyone's_ earshot, at least. Merlin is clumsy, obnoxious, and largely useless and completely lacks any understanding about proper behaviour towards his master, and Arthur makes very sure that everybody knows that.

So why would he, the Crown Prince of Camelot, whose life is worth infinitely more than any serving boy's, put said life at risk just to save a servant so useless? Yet he has done so, repeatedly, and knows he would do so again without a second thought. He has faced death in the caves of Balor to save Merlin's life; he has drunk poison for him in the Labyrinth of Gedref and has taken the bite of the Questing Beast in his stead.

Somehow he doesn't think all this would truly fall into the category of _protecting the weak_. His father certainly doesn't. And yet Arthur knows he could not act in any other way.

Even though he sometimes does ask himself whether Merlin is truly as helpless as he pretends to be. Why should Merlin always be associated with fire in Arthur's dreams? With fire and sharp swords and stormy winds? With weapons that move on their own while Merlin watches them with the glowing golden eyes of a falcon – the falcon after which he's been named?

Arthur feels restless, and the absence of Merlin is not helping. He has too many questions he needs to ask, and there is no-one who can answer them. Marlin has not returned since that strange visit of his that made absolutely no sense, no matter how much Arthur ponders over the words that have been said – and even more over the ones that have _not_.

Merlin must have had a reason for that weird visit. He is an idiot, for sure, but his madness has a system, and behind the words that have been spoken Arthur can see no system at all. Perhaps it is a hidden meaning behind the _unspoken_ words, he muses, trying to remember _what_ it was exactly that Merlin said to him.

_Promise me this. If you get another servant, don't get a bootlicker._

At that time, he thought he understood.

_If this is you trying to leave your job…_

But he apparently didn't, for Merlin interrupted him and didn't even seem upset with him – which was a rare thing to begin with.

_No. I'm happy to be your servant. Till the day I die._

Now Arthur isn't so sure anymore that he understood… that he has _ever_ understood Merlin.

_Sometimes I think I know you, Merlin. Other times…_

Now he realises that Merlin has always been an enigma to him – from their very first encounter in the marketplace of Camelot, nearly a year ago.

Arthur has always disliked things he can't understand. He isn't quite as obsessed with riddles as his father is with magic – at least he hopes he isn't and that he never will be – but when he runs into one, he's like a dog with a bone… he just cannot leave it lie. And since he is well enough already to walk on his own but still too weak to do anything actually useful, he decides to go and look for some answers.

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><p>Gaius' chambers are the logical first place to look both for answers and for his errant manservant. Besides, he owes the old man proper thanks for saving his life… again. And it isn't as if he would be a stranger in those chambers. As a child, he spent long hours in there, learning from Gaius his letters and numbers and his Latin and whatever his father thought would be useful for the future King to learn.<p>

Back then, it never seemed strange to him that his deeply suspicious father would put such unconditional trust in a simple old man of common birth, but now he wonders. Uther Pendragon doesn't have friends – he has told his son expressly that kings don't _need_ friends. A King has subjects and allies… that is all he needs.

Nor has his father ever shown any particular kindness towards Gaius, as far as Arthur can tell. Yes, Uther listens to Gaius' opinion, even asks for the old man's advice from time to time… only to ignore it in most cases and act as he sees right, even if he must know he's being wrong. _Especially_ if he must know he's being wrong.

Now Arthur asks himself if that is how things will be between him and Merlin, once he becomes King. He hopes it won't. Because for all that he calls Merlin useless and an idiot all the time (and let's face it, with good reason), he feels that without that unnamed, unexplored trust between them he would be lost. As lost as his father is, in the solitude of his empty chambers, with only duty and hatred towards magic filling his empty heart.

All right, perhaps the love for his son, too, Arthur admits grudgingly. While he was semi-conscious and burning out with fever from the poisonous bite of the Questing Beast, he could hear his father talk to him and weep over him nonetheless. And yet his father couldn't trust with his sorrow anyone, not even Gaius. That would have been weakness, and weakness is something a King cannot admit.

Arthur shakes his head in regret and opens the door without knocking. His eyes sweep across Gaius' large workroom that looks every bit the same as always. There is the long working table in the middle, where the old man prepares his tinctures and rolls his pills, half-covered with various sizes of bottles, filled with tinctures, standing next to the skull of some indefinite beast. There is the small desk near the arched window, with the inkwell and pens and pieces of parchment for making notes. There is the bench on the opposite wall, with dried herbs and other remedies heaped upon it. There's the pallet bed where patients sometimes lie, now rumpled and empty. The gallery, running around the entire room, with hundreds of books on the shelves – the root and source of Gaius' wisdom and the miracles he sometimes works – and a long ladder with the help of which to reach them.

Everything is as it ought to be, as it has always been, during Arthur's entire life. There is even a book of herbal lore, written by a fine, bold hand and illustrated with beautiful pen-and-ink drawings, left open on the corner of the small desk. But the fire has long burned out in the hearth, and Gaius is nowhere to be seen.

Arthur frowns and becomes a little worried, for it is not like Gaius to leave his work unfinished – as a cooled-down bowl of some medicinal brew on the working table indicates – or his books lying around. They are precious and hard to come by. The inkwell has been left open, too, the pen thrown carelessly onto the desk, without being wiped clean. _That_ is something Arthur has never seen from Gaius before.

What happened here? If Gaius has been called away unexpectedly, why hasn't Merlin cleaned up after him? Merlin _always_ cleans up after Gaius, cheerfully neglecting his duties in the Prince's chambers if he has to, just to help the old man, doesn't he?

Without even realising what he's doing, Arthur stoppers the inkwell before it can be overturned by accident and ruin Gaius' precious herbal book. Then he looks around for some used parchment or a rag to wipe the pen clean.

What he finds is a crumpled slip of parchment, thrown under the desk as if in a great hurry. Picking it up, he sees letters, written in Gaius' familiar black ink, and smoothes it out, curiously.

What he reads there makes his head spin. He reads it twice, and again a third time, as his world crumbles to pieces around him. His hands are shaking so violently that the letters seem to run into an intricate, unreadable pattern before his shocked eyes.

_Dear Merlin,_ he reads,_ my life is already near to its end. There has, for the most part, been very little purpose to it. Very little that will be remembered. In contrast, Merlin, your life is destined for greatness. Live by the tenets I have taught you, and I believe you will, in time, become the greatest warlock ever. To have known you has been my greatest pleasure, and to sacrifice myself for you is but an honour. You are, and always will be, the son I never had. Gaius._

The greatest warlock ever. _Merlin_. Merlin, the idiot country boy who can never do anything right and who is too stupid to even fear his master properly. A sorcerer. Not just a sorcerer, but predestined to be the greatest warlock ever.

Arthur crumples the letter again and slumps into Gaius' old armchair, trying to come to terms with the incredible truth he'd just found out so unexpectedly and without warning. Like the pieces of a kaleidoscope, seemingly strange images from the previous year resurface in his memory, gaining a new, somewhat ominous meaning.

The murderous visage of the Lady Helen, the cold, deadly glint of her knife, aimed at Arthur's heart. Her turning into an ugly old hag as the chandelier conveniently falls onto her and kills her.

The snakes coming alive on Knight Valiant's shield and Merlin watching their rising with the golden eyes of a… a _sorcerer_, apparently.

Merlin, standing behind him down in the vault, facing the Afanc with him… and suddenly, his torch bursting forth a powerful flame that engulfs the Afanc and destroys it.

The mysterious ball of light, guiding him out of the spider-infested caves in the Forest of Balor, calling to him in Merlin's voice.

Lancelot, slaying the griffin with a lance that should have bounced back from the beast's impenetrable skin… if not for Merlin, apparently.

Merlin, wielding the enchanted staff of Aulfric and killing the mysterious old man with the magical fire emanating from the end of the staff. Arthur was floating under the surface of the Faerie Lake at that time and had never remembered those events – until now.

Merlin, standing in a cavernous underground hall, speaking to a huge, scaled creature that could only be a dragon, strange as it might sound – and the dragon breathing fire, burnishing the sword in Merlin's hand. Arthur is quite sure that he never witnessed that particular scene and cannot understand how can he "remember" it now. But he is fairly sure the sword is the same one with which his father defeated the Black Knight.

The sword that has been missing ever since. Arthur briefly wonders where it might be now.

Merlin, standing behind the modest defences of Ealdor, watching the rising storm with golden eyes and an outstretched hand… the storm, Arthur understands now, he has raised himself to protect his mother's home. And Will, his friend, lying with his dying breath to protect _him_ in exchange.

Merlin in the underground cavern, facing the dragon again – a very angry dragon, it seems, who is engulfing him in fire; but Merlin raises his magical shields against the dragonfire… and survives.

Arthur is certain this is _not_ a scene he has witnessed with his own eyes, either, but he also knows with a certainty he cannot explain that it happened as he sees it now. He wonders briefly how it is possible and where the dragon might dwell and what kind of connection there might be between Merlin and the huge beast… and which one of them truly slew the Questing Beast.

Before everything else, though, he wonders what he is supposed to do about Merlin.

Not about Merlin, his clumsy and generally useless and naturally annoying manservant, but about Merlin, the sorcerer, destined to become the greatest warlock ever. Merlin, the idiot, who dared to practise magic in Camelot itself, practically under the nose of Uther Pendragon, self-proclaimed hand of vengeance against everything even vaguely magical. Merlin, who's saved his life uncounted times, and whose life he has saved repeatedly in return.

He hears voices from the small, adjoining room that he knows as Merlin's and recognises as Gwen's. That makes him leave Gaius' chambers as quickly and quietly as possible. He will deal with Gwen and the possible reasons for her presence later. Right now, he has some thinking to do.

~TBC~

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><p>After some re-editing, I decided to post the remaining two chapters, too. Enjoy!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Movements of Fire and Shadow**

**by Soledad**

**Disclaimer:** Arthur, Merlin and the other characters belong to the BBC. I'm just borrowing them to have some fun.

**Author's note: **Between writing Parts 01 and 02, I had the chance to see the first half of Series Two. As much as I didn't want it to influence the outcome of this story, it undeniably has.

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><p><strong>Part 02<strong>

When Merlin and Gaius return from their mysterious journey, several days later, Arthur is still not done thinking. He has still not decided _what_ to do and _why_. He has still not come to terms with the fact that this slight twig of a man – or rather a _boy_, actually – is apparently a sorcerer, and in hindsight of last year's events, apparently a powerful one. A sorcerer who talks to dragons and can withstand dragonfire by using only his powers to protect himself.

But the thing he can come to terms with the least is that Merlin, who is such a lousy liar in all the things that do _not_ matter, has successfully lied to him about the most important thing in his life. _That_ fact makes Arthur think more than he has perhaps thought about anything in his whole life; because this accidental discovery will have consequences. For him, for Merlin, and above all, for their friendship… such as it is possible between the Crown Prince of the realm and a mere servant.

Only that Merlin is not a mere servant and obviously never was.

Oh, he can understand _why_ Merlin has lied, even though it hurts, deep within, that he hasn't been found trustworthy enough to be told the truth. Merlin has arrived in Camelot just in time to witness the beheading of a sorcerer, and he has witnessed enough executions during his stay to be extremely wary. And he, Arthur, _is_ the son of the very King who has ordered all those executions. He has even searched Camelot to find all those sorcerers and witches many times, so that his father could have them executed. Merlin might be an idiot sometimes, but he doesn't have a death wish, and Arthur can certainly understand _that_.

No, the question that truly worries him is: why has Merlin chosen to come to Camelot, of all places? He must have known that magic is relentlessly pursued here – if from no other source, then from Gaius. And why would Gaius, supposedly the only man King Uther would trust – as far as he is capable of trusting _anyone_, that is – choose to hide a sorcerer in Camelot? What kind of connection could there be between Gaius and Merlin's mother, Hunith, who – as Arthur has learned in the meantime – was being treated in Gaius' chambers with some mysterious illness at the same time as Arthur was recovering from the poisonous bite of the Questing Beast? Which, by the way, was the reason why he heard Gwen's voice from Merlin's tiny room in the night of his earth-shattering discovery.

The memory makes Arthur wonder whether _Gwen_ knows. He and Merlin have always been close – has he told _her_? Or Morgana? Those three have always been scheming behind his back, trying to make him do things they wanted to be done…. Have they truly been any different than his father?

It is a sobering thought, and Arthur is surprised how much it hurts. Merlin might have been the most annoying manservant in the history of Camelot, but at least he was Arthur's friend – at least Arthur used to believe so. Now he isn't so sure about it… he isn't sure about _anything_. The shock of his discovery still sits too deep.

He never truly had friends before. He had his knights, who depended on his leadership. Had his servants of various degrees of usefulness yet never close. And courtiers, who faked friendship to achieve a better position at his father's court. But never friends. Merlin was the first he ever came close to trust – and now it seems he's been deceived from the first moment on.

He should have known. If nought else, Merlin's elaborate scheme to get Lancelot into the brotherhood that is the Knights of Camelot should have opened his eyes. Oh, he's suspected that Merlin has been the driving force behind that deception, drawing even Gwen into the net of his lies, but at that time, he actually agreed that skills, personal honour and devotion should be what makes a knight, not birth alone. And Lancelot certainly seemed an honourable person.

Now he is wondering what Merlin's true agenda might have been, trying to smuggle a commoner under the young nobles of Camelot. Was it truly the simple wish to help Lancelot fulfil a long-nurtured, hopeless dream… or was there another, more sinister agenda that the young knight perhaps didn't even know of?

What Arthur is _not_ wondering about is _how_ Merlin managed to produce the falsified proof of Lancelot's nobility. For a sorcerer, it should not have been such a difficult task. Certainly not more difficult than to enchant Lancelot's spear, so that if would kill the Griffon. Or to raise a storm to protect his mother's village. Or to make a dragon brandish a sword, so that it would slay a wraith.

And even though Merlin has only used whatever powers he might truly process for the good of other people – at least as far as Arthur knows, that is – Arthur finds it hard to trust him as unconditionally as he used to. No matter from which angle he may look at the bare facts, the basic truth remains that Merlin _has_ deceived him… and is still deceiving him.

All of a sudden, he begins to feel uncomfortable around Merlin. Uncomfortable enough to begin thinking about getting a new manservant. One that might be an outright liar and thief – unfortunate, yet common failings by servants – but who does not have any hidden agenda.

One that would be _safe_.

Merlin must be feeling that something isn't quite right between the two of them, for he has withdrawn from Arthur. Not physically, there is simply no chance for that, as Arthur is running him ragged with chores, most of which he's making up as he goes, at a whim of his heart, just to keep Merlin occupied… so that the sorcerer would not have the time or the strength left to plot any more secret schemes.

Or perhaps it is a perverse curiosity on his part. Perhaps he wants to find out how much it would take for Merlin to reach his breaking point. What it would need for him to finally snap and lash out in rage with that hidden power of his, even if it would kill him… _or _Arthur.

Perhaps deep in my heart Arthur wants to truly _see_ what Merlin is capable of. Not just a glimpse, caught by accident, but the full force of it.

But Merlin never snaps, not even for a moment. He just grows even paler and more frighteningly thin than he used to be, his face hollow and taut, and his eyes haunted. He takes the subtle abuse of his master with very little complaint, and when he _does_ complain, it lacks their earlier, friendly banter. It sounds bitter and resigned.

It seems to Arthur as if he'd have a complete stranger around himself. He starts thinking about getting a new servant again. Perhaps even sending Merlin away from Camelot... back to Ealdor, to his mother, where he won't be killed for what he is. Because despite everything, Arthur doesn't want the idiot dead.

And that is when Cedric arrives in Camelot.

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><p>It happens on a bright, sunny autumn morning, right after the discovery of the burial chamber – or treasure chamber, depending on who one sees it – under Camelot. A discovery that has Arthur's father delighted and Gaius frightened, yammering something about a long-dead sorcerer and evil magic. Funny that <em>he<em> of all people would worry about such things – especially after having sheltered a sorcerer for more than a year in his own chambers, Arthur thinks.

And so he chooses to ignore the old man's concerns, despite the nagging inner voice that keeps warning him to act differently. And he is deliberately nasty and hurtful to Merlin – something he never did before. His cutting remarks now truly have an edge, and the way Merlin flinches every time shows that Arthur's words hit tender places within him.

Good. He _should_ hurt. It is only fitting if he's chosen to wear the disguise of a useless, incompetent servant.

When Cedric asks for a position in the royal household for – supposedly – saving Arthur's life, Arthur is only too happy to grant it. He knows, of course, that it was in truth _Merlin_ who has saved him from the wild boar… unless Cedric had managed to turn the branch he'd been beating the bushes with into a spear by sorcery. But if Merlin chooses to hide who – and _what_ – he truly is, well, two can play that game.

It is petty and childish, yes, and if he is honest with himself, Arthur has to admit that Merlin deserves better. It is just so that he doesn't _want_ to be honest with himself. Something got broken in him when he found that letter, and the pieces just refuse to come together again. He isn't sure he wants Merlin around him anymore. The loss of what they once had – or, at least, he _thought_ they had – is too painful.

So he keeps favouring Cedric, just because it hurts Merlin, and ignores Merlin's warnings blithely… even though that insistent little voice within keeps nagging him that this isn't the right thing to do. But Arthur is tired of doing the right thing. He's tired of growing up to everyone's expectations – those of his father and those of other people, which are often in diagonal opposite with his father's wishes. He's tired of trying to balance things out that, by their very nature, cannot be balanced, just to keep everyone alive.

And he likes the flattery. Yes, Cedric _is_ a bootlicker, and perchance not even an honest one, but at least he is someone Arthur does not need to fight all the time.

Or so he honestly believes, although he is about to learn it otherwise. But he doesn't know _that_ yet, and right now, he does find perverse delight in being a prat, as Merlin would put it.

Which leads to repeated, increasingly ugly confrontations between him and Merlin and between Cedric and Merlin, respectively. Confrontations in which Arthur demonstratively takes Cedric's side, annoyed with that idiot sorcerer of a manservant that stubbornly refuses to reveal himself.

Then comes the moment in which Merlin finally _does_ snap, calling Arthur a clotpole in his rage, and for the shortest moment, his eyes turn gold, which is a stupid and dangerous thing to do, as only a blind man would miss something like that. And since Cedric is with them in the room, Arthur is suddenly afraid that the other servant might have seen what he saw, and his first instinct is to get Merlin out of harm's way.

"He can look after me tonight," he says with a dismissive gesture in Cedric's direction, because Cedric does not truly count. It has never been about Cedric; it has always been about Arthur and Merlin, and about the trust that has been broken and might never be mended between them again.

"You can go home and think about whether you want to be my servant or not," Arthur delivers the parting blow, and for a moment he's almost scared himself, for Merlin goes very pale and still, like a deer mortally wounded. He just stands there, staring at Arthur with wide, unbelieving eyes, and in his heart Arthur can hear that artlessly honest confession from months ago, when things were still all right between them. Back when he did not yet know Merlin's dark secret.

_I'm happy to be your servant. Till the day I die._

It is a memory that will haunt Arthur for the rest of his life… the last unspoiled memory he has of Merlin. A memory that – in hindsight – only fuels his anger now.

"Get out!" he says in a low, dangerous voice, and Merlin flees in terror.

Or so it seems… although whether he truly _needs_ to fear Arthur is another question entirely.

* * *

><p>Despite his minor victory in their battle of wills – and a pyrrhic one it is, if there has ever been one – Arthur does not sleep well in that night. That is, if 'not sleeping well' equals 'not sleeping at all'. Whether it is his conscience or the underlying worry what the offended sorcerer might do, his eyes simply refuse to stay closed for any longer than a few minutes.<p>

Finally, he gives up, pulls over a long robe and begins to roam aimlessly the corridors of Camelot. He knows his way around the guards well enough to avoid being noticed – the last thing he wants is to have to explain anyone why he is up and wandering.

After a while he realizes that his legs have taken him to Gaius' chambers. The door is left open just a crack, and – in spite of the late hour – an oil lamp is burning within. Arthur knows that eavesdropping is below the dignity of a Prince – especially that of the Crown Prince of Camelot – but he simply cannot resist. He recognises Merlin's voice and just _has_ to know what those two are talking about… for there could be little doubt who the other person is.

As he peeks in he can see Gaius and Merlin sitting at a small table indeed. Gaius looks worried as the shadows are dancing upon his deeply lined face, and Merlin… Merlin just looks broken.

"I just want Arthur to trust me, like he used to," he is saying when the Prince reaches the door. "And to see me for who I really am."

_Oh, I see well enough who you really are_, Arthur thinks with grim satisfaction. Still the thought that Merlin _wants_ to tell him the truth, at the very least, is an intriguing one.

"One day he will," Gaius says comfortingly, because it's clear that Merlin is truly upset about having lost the Prince's trust… even though he doesn't know the reason. Or perhaps _because_ he doesn't know the reason.

"When?" he asks, anguish unmistakable in his voice. "Everything I do is for _him_ and he just thinks I'm an idiot."

_I wish you were_, Arthur thinks sadly. _I wish you were still the clumsy idiot I used to have around; the one I used to trust._

But Merlin is _not_, in truth he never was, and there's nothing that can heal trust that has once been broken.

"Not everyone thinks you're an idiot," Gaius says gently.

Merlin only snorts, knowing that to be a lie… well, mostly. He can't know, of course, that Arthur has seen through his disguise already and _knows_ he isn't an idiot. Which, by the way, only makes his situation at the court a great deal more precarious.

"Go and try to find some rest, Merlin," Gaius then says, and his voice is old and tired beyond measure. "I'll try to translate the inscription of the tomb. Perhaps if we understand what that jewel was once used for, we'll see more clearly in this entire matter."

"I hope so," Merlin replies gravely, "because I've got a truly bad feeling about this."

"So have I, my boy,' Gaius says tiredly. "So have I."

Arthur waits for a little longer, hoping to learn more, but there isn't anything else to learn. Merlin retreats into his small chamber while Gaius remains in the main room, searching his books and pondering around. After half an hour, Arthur gives up and goes back to his chambers, too. Sleep, however, keeps evading him.

Right on the next day, things go straight from bad to worse. The burial chamber of Cornelius Sigan is found to have been robbed, the incredible blue jewel that used to be embedded in the effigy of the sorcerer is gone… no-one can explain how. The chamber shows no signs of being broken in, and Arthur has the only key, keeping it with him all the time. Even in his sleep, he keeps it at his bed.

The chamber has been robbed during the previous night. During what little sleep he finally managed to find. And the only people who had access to his chambers in that night were Merlin… and Cedric.

Arthur isn't really surprised when Merlin comes to his chambers later in the morning with the ridiculous accusation that Cedric would be is possessed by an evil spirit. He tries to keep a straight face.

'What?" he asks, having a truly hard time _not_ to laugh. Merlin might be a powerful sorcerer, but in some things he still _is_ a hopeless idiot.

"He tried to steal the blue jewel," Merlin insists, and somehow _that_ is something Arthur _can_ believe. It isn't so that he'd actually _trust_ the man. He's just using Cedric to get back at Merlin. And it _is_ true that Cedric would have had the chance to… to _borrow_ his keys.

Unfortunately, Merlin goes on, and the next thing he says is beyond ridiculous.

"But it wasn't a jewel," he explains. "It was the soul of an ancient sorcerer, Sigan."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "Merlin, have you been on the cider?"

The idiot sorcerer, however, just can't let it be. "Please... listen to me," he begs. "Camelot is in mortal danger. Sigan is using Cedric's body to take his revenge."

_It takes one to know one_, Arthur thinks shaking his head in exasperation. God, but things have gotten complicated since he'd discovered Merlin's secret. What is the boy up to anyway? What's he hoping from such stupid accusations? Yes, Cedric is probably a liar, and most likely a thief, too, but an evil _sorcerer_?

"This nonsense isn't helping you keep your job," Arthur warns, because he's getting fed up with Merlin's antics. Merlin, however, seems to be fairly obsessed with the whole idea.

"You are not listening to me!" he exclaims, and now Arthur's had truly enough. Sorcerer or not, he does _not_ appreciate being shouted at in his own chambers. By his _manservant_, of all people. Even if said manservant is Merlin.

_Especially_ if said manservant is Merlin. The one who's been lying to him through his teeth ever since he first set foot in Camelot.

"Not if you're going to shout at me," he says dryly and calls for his new servant. "Cedric! Will you escort Merlin from the palace?"

The smug face of the man makes his stomach churn, and would Merlin follow Cedric out as ordered, just this one time, he might even reconsider. But Merlin seems to be out of his mind entirely, because instead of obeying, he wrestles Cedric to the floor… not that he'd achieve much. He _may_ be a sorcerer, even a powerful one, but he's still completely useless when it comes to hand-to-hand combat.

At first Arthur finds the fighting quite amusing – until the two fighting cocks manage to knock him off his feet. That truly annoys him, and he climbs back to his feet, shouting.

"You've gone too far this time, Merlin," he declares, fuming. "You can spend a few days cooling off in the cells."

He calls for the guards and studiously avoids looking at Cedric's self-satisfied mien while Merlin is dragged off to the dungeons, his agitated cries echoing from the corridors.

"He's going to destroy Camelot!"

* * *

><p>Of course, when at the same night huge, winged monsters appear all over Camelot, destroying the marketplace, and taking control of the lower town, making people to flee the city in panic – those who haven't been killed already, and the numbers of <em>those<em> are too high to even count – he finds Merlin's accusations less ridiculous. He still doubts that it would be actually _Cedric_ who wreaks havoc on Camelot, but he must admit that there has to be _some_ sorcery behind all this.

His father, too, dismisses the idea of Sigan's return from the dead, of course, and orders the creatures to be killed… together with the sorcerer, should he have, indeed, returned.

Gaius tries to reason with the King, as always.

"You do not understand, Sire," he argues. "You cannot kill a man who has conquered mortality."

But as always, Uther refuses to listen.

"Don't tell me what cannot be done," he hisses. "Camelot will _not_ fall to a sorcerer while I am King."

Arthur cannot help but wonder how long his father will remain King if things continue this way. He knows that if Gaius is right – and in such matters the old man usually is – mere weapons will not help them to save Camelot. And he, Arthur, has seen that the only person who _might_ help them was thrown into the dungeon.

Uther's orders are the end of all reasoning, however, and so Arthur gathers the Knights of Camelot around him to go and fight the creatures – for the first time, without Merlin watching his back.

He's surprised how vulnerable _that_ makes him feel.

~TBC~


	3. Chapter 3

**Movements of Fire and Shadow**

**by Soledad**

**Disclaimer:** Arthur, Merlin and the other characters belong to the BBC. I'm just borrowing them to have some fun.

**Author's note:** This part contains a few lines of original dialogue around the end. Clearly, those lines are not mine - I'm sure you'll all recognize them.

* * *

><p><strong>Part 03<strong>

They are losing against the creatures spectacularly, which is not truly surprising – they seem immune against swords and arrows and whatever they are trying to use against the, Arthur has an eerie feeling of _déja vu_ – it is almost the same thing as fighting the gryphon all over again. Except that he had Merlin _and _Lancelot on his side while fighting the gryphon… and now he has not.

His knights are shockingly helpless against the beasts. Many of them are already dead or gravely wounded. Gaius' infirmary is full to the bursting point, and even Morgana has come down to help. But they simply cannot keep up with the growing numbers of the dead and the wounded. Many of them are left on the streets of the lower town, with no hope to be saved.

King Uther wants to seal off the Citadel, but Arthur refuses to leave the people of Camelot to the nonexistent mercies of these monsters, whatever they were.

"We have no choice!" Uther argues. "We have to protect those who have a chance. If we don't, we will all fall."

Arthur knows that his father is right. Still, he cannot follow that terrible logic.

"There are people trapped on the drawbridge," he says. "I'm not leaving them to die."

"It's suicide!" Uther cries out in distress. Arthur, however, cannot be moved.

"It's my duty to Camelot… and to myself," he says before he turns to leave.

In mid-turn, he believes to have spotted Merlin, watching him from one of the galleries… which should be impossible. He had the sorcerer thrown into the dungeons, only a few hours ago. Of course, the fact that Merlin _is_ a warlock makes the impossible rather… likely.

He shakes his head and hurries off, his remaining knights in tow. He'll deal with Merlin later. Assuming there _will_ be a later.

* * *

><p>The courtyards of Camelot are littered with dead bodies, and the winged monsters are everywhere. Soon they have the knights surrounded; they have to retreat and regroup on the central square. It soon becomes obvious that they have no chance against the monsters, so Arthur orders his knights to retreat and seal the palace gates behind them.<p>

At first, Sir Geraint is quite reluctant to do so, but the arrival of another creature makes him reconsider his heroic stance. The knights flee.

Arthur knows he has no chance. The creatures cannot be injured by sword, and they're frighteningly strong. He tries to hold them back, at least long enough for his knights to escape, but soon, a powerful strike knocks him off his feet. He lands on his back with a loud _thud_… yet as the creature closes up to give him the rest, it suddenly explodes into a thousand little pieces that rain down onto the stone-paved floor like petrified raindrops.

Paralyzed from the hard impact of his fall, Arthur can hear the noise of falling and splintering stone from all over the place, and he's wondering whether the other creatures are being destroyed, too. He has no way to know. He cannot move, he cannot call for help, the breath being knocked off his lungs.

All he can do is to watch in helpless terror a strangely changed Cedric – or rather someone who _looks_ like Cedric but clearly isn't him, not truly – approach through the cloud of dust filling the courtyard. The man is wearing a long, black cloak, and his eyes are glowing in an unholy red-gold light.

Just like the eyes of Merlin, only filled with malevolent glee.

"Who would have believed it?" he says in a singsong voice. "You, a sorcerer. And a powerful one."

At first Arthur believes the man is talking to him and is fairly shocked. But the he spots a thin, grimy figure approaching him from the other side of the courtyard, and now he understands what happened to the creatures.

It's Merlin; dirty and bruised and battered, but obviously very much in control. Arthur doesn't know how he managed to escape the dungeon, but he isn't surprised, either. If Merlin could render the winged beasts to splintered stone, he's probably simply blown the dungeon gates out of his way.

"I won't let you hurt him," Merlin warns Cedric… Sigan… whoever the man truly might be, his voice low but powerful.

"And _you're_ going to stop me?" the sorcerer asks in arrogant amusement. Neither of them has realized that Arthur is conscious and can hear every word.

"I _will_ stop you," Merlin says with a finality that makes Arthur wonder whether there is anything his manservant _cannot_ do. The sorcerer's amusement is turned to dismay, as if he'd expected something different from Merlin.

"He does not deserve your loyalty," he argues. "He treats you like a slave… like his ancestor used to treat me. Before I'd go too powerful for his comfort and he had me executed. Arthur isn't any better. He'd have you slain the moment he discovered who – _what_ – you truly are."

"That's not true!" Merlin protests, and Arthur cannot help but be touched by so much trust.

A trust he wasn't exactly willing to give Merlin from his side.

"He cast you aside without a moment's thought," Cedric knows how to twist the knife, and Arthur can see the pain flickering across Merlin's oh-so-open face. But he's not giving in to Cedric's seduction – not _yet_.

"It doesn't matter," he says; but his face betrays him. Arthur is not the only one who can see that yes, it _does_ matter to Merlin, to have been treated so badly by his master.

_Everything I do is for him, and he just thinks I'm an idiot_, the bitter voice echoes in Arthur's memory.

Cedric realises he's hit true and presses his advantage. His voice becomes deeper, more intimate.

"But it must hurt so much. To be so put upon, so overlooked, when all the while you have such power…"

Merlin's face is full of anguish; he's clearly fighting a hard inner battle, and even a blind man can see that yes, it _does_ hurt him a great deal to be ridiculed and unappreciated. He's still not giving in, though.

"That's the way it has to be," he finally says, but Arthur has the terrible feeling that his answer is born more out of defiance than out of true belief.

"Does it?" Cedric's voice is low, intimate, as if he'd be talking to a lover rather than to a warlock boy he wants to seduce to his side. There is something profoundly disgusting in it, especially if one knows of Merlin's innocence.

"You are young, Merlin," he continues, almost in a whisper. "Look inside yourself, you have yet to discover your true power. I can help you. "

"My powers are mine," Merlin sounds a bit steadier now. "I don't need your help."

"_Think_, Merlin!" Cedric insists, ignoring the defiant answer. "Think what it would be like to have the world appreciate your greatness. To have Arthur know you for what you are…"

"That can never be," Merlin replies promptly, but his voice is shaking, and for the first time, he seems sorely tempted.

_I just want Arthur to trust me_, his complaint echoes bitterly in the Prince's mind. _And to see me for who I really am._

And for a moment Arthur is truly frightened that Merlin _would_ give in, after all. It's hard not to, when one's offered one's greatest wish. And Cedric is still not done with the seduction.

"Oh, but it can," he murmurs in a tone that makes Arthur shiver… and not in a good way. "If you join me. Together we can rule over this land. Arthur will tremble at your voice. He will kneel at your feet."

Somehow Arthur doesn't doubt that the sorcerer can make you do exactly that. And yet it seems to have been the wrong thing to say, because the spell Cedric has woven to trap Marlin almost visibly breaks in this very moment.

"I never wanted _that_," he protests, sounding downright indignant. In fact, he sounds exactly like in all those times whenever he gave Arthur a piece of his mind, and courtly etiquette be damned.

Cedric feels his prey slipping through his fingers, too, but he makes one last effort to catch him.

"You'd rather be a servant?" he asks incredulously.

Merlin is deathly pale and sweating profusely, but his face has taken on that mulish expression Arthur knows all too well. The one that makes him give up whatever he might have wanted from Merlin at the moment, because he knows it would be hopeless.

"Better to serve a good man than to rule with an evil one," Merlin declares stubbornly, and Arthur feels his entire chest fill with unexpected warmth.

_I'm happy to be your servant_, he remembers that declaration. _Till the day I die_.

What has he done to deserve such loyalty? How could he have doubted Merlin's faithfulness for a moment? Now he finally understands that nothing could turn Merlin against him – not even his own stupidity.

Cedric… _Sigan _appears to understand this as well, because his demeanour changes at once.

"So be it," he says, his voice turning harsh. "If you will not join _me_, I will become _you_ and your power will be harnessed to my will."

Merlin doesn't seem particularly scared by this declaration… but Arthur _is_. He watches hopelessly as Cedric collapses on the paved stone, and a blue light, serpentine like some sort of giant snake, leaves his body to wrap itself around Merlin's thin frame.

He wonders whether this would be the last thing he's going to see in his life.

* * *

><p>When he comes to, he's lying in his own bed, his bruised ribs bandaged, and Morgana is sitting at his bedside.<p>

"What… happened?" he asks. His throat is so dry he can barely speak. She gives him some water.

"Cedric is dead," she says. "The monsters are gone. Gaius tells me they were actually the gargoyles from our own rooftops, awakened to life by some powerful ancient spell."

"Small wonder they couldn't be slain by swords or arrows," Arthur murmurs. "Where's Merlin?"

"He's found the blue jewel, the one stolen by Cedric," Morgana explains. "According to Gaius, that's where Sigan's evil spirit is trapped. Uther ordered it to be put back in its place and the tomb of Sigan to be walled in again."

"Good," Arthur says. "We should have listened to Gaius right from the beginning. I'm glad Father has come to his senses in the end."

"If you call it _that_," Morgana answers wryly. "Actually, he came to the conclusion that he's grown complacent in his pursuit of magic lately and must renew his efforts to eradicate all sorcerers and their followers from his kingdom."

Arthur's heart grows cold with fear… fear for Merlin. "You cannot be serious!"

"I fear I am," Morgana relies with a sad little smile. "And so is your father. I fear that we'll see a lot more pyres burn on the central square in the times that come."

Arthur knows she's right, and he realises in a sudden moment of clarity that he can never tell Merlin that he _knows_… or at least not as long as his father is alive. That would make Merlin careless – and _that_ is something they cannot afford. Arthur understands now that he _needs_ Merlin; that he'll _always_ need him, and as wonderful as it would be to share Merlin's secret, the only way to keep him safe is to keep feigning ignorance.

Fortunately, that is something he can do well.

"Where's that useless, incompetent manservant of mine anyway?" he asks, pretending to be annoyed. "Why are _you_ sitting at my bedside?"

"You've thrown him out on his ear, remember?" Morgana returns sharply, clearly displeased with him on Merlin's behalf. "You replaced him with that murderous thief that almost killed us all."

"I did no such thing!" Arthur replies indignantly. "I just… gave him some time to think about whether he truly wants to remain in my service or not."

"Yea, because you've made it _so_ appealing for him to stay," Morgana actually _snorts_. It's a very un-ladylike sound; one that reminds him of their shared childhood. "Well, I think you'll have to grovel a little if you want to have him back. You _were_ insufferable to him, you know; have been for quite some time."

"I'm the Prince," Arthur says haughtily. "Princes do not grovel."

"No?" Morgana asks tartly. "How do you intend to get him back, then?"

Arthur smiles, knowing what she cannot know. "I have my methods."

* * *

><p>When he reaches Gaius' chambers, carrying the largest bag he could find in his chests, filled with all possible and impossible pieces of armour, he finds the door a crack open, as before. There are voices within… voices that he recognises.<p>

"You know you won't get any thanks, Merlin," Gaius is saying a little sadly, and Merlin actually _laughs_.

"I'm not a _complete_ idiot. But I'm getting used to it: I save Arthur's life, someone else gets the credit. The usual. At least we _have_ saved Camelot again."

"That was well done, my boy," Gaius says with almost fatherly pride, and through the crack, Arthur can see him serve Merlin some food. "There you go. It's not much. But you deserve something."

Merlin practically falls over the food with the healthy appetite of a starving eighteen-year old. Arthur chooses this very moment to knock on the door.

"I've come to see Merlin," he tells Gaius who lets him in. Then he turns to Merlin, who's stopped eating, all but petrified, with the spoon in his hand. "I've not forgotten about your lazy, insolent ways, or the fact that you called me a clotpole," he declares. "But I do have to admit that there was some truth in your accusations against Cedric."

Merlin looks up at him and that slow, mischievous smile starts to spread all over his face. "Does this mean you're admitting that on this occasion I was right?"

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "Not exactly, no. It means that I have a knighthood to bestow first thing tomorrow and no-one to clean my armour."

He empties the contents of a bag on the table Merlin is dining at, barely missing the plate… but he _does_ miss it. Gaius was right. Merlin _does_ deserve something. Even if it's only a good meal.

Merlin looks at the random pieces of armour in mild shock. "All that?"

"Yep!" Arthur replies blithely, and adds before leaving. "I expect you to bring everything to my chambers before nightfall."

As he closes the door behind him, he can hear Gaius' amused voice. "_Clotpole_?"

And then Merlin and Gaius laugh. It's a sound that makes Arthur want to laugh, too.

* * *

><p>It's actually late night when Merlin appears in Arthur's chambers, delivering the spotless, shining pieces of armour, most of which he certainly won't need in the morning… and they both know that. They also both know that Merlin has been reinstated as Arthur's personal servant, without much ado.<p>

"Would there be anything else, _sire_?" Merlin asks, with that strange emphasis on the honorary title that makes it sound like an insult – as always.

"No," Arthur replies quietly. "Just… I'm glad you decided to return, after all."

Merlin just looks at him in clueless innocence (or, at least, a masterful display of it), his elfin ears sticking out from his unruly mop of black hair in their usual ridiculous way, his eyes wide and very, very blue. But the promise of a mischievous smile is already ghosting across is face.

"Where else should I go, sire?" he asks. "This is where I belong."

"You are right, my falcon… it is," Arthur says.

And he has the satisfaction to see those blue eyes turn liquid gold as he steps closer to kiss Merlin.

It is a heady feeling to taste that much power and not being burned by it.

~The End~


End file.
